ONE:
Yup. There's a baybee in mah tummy. Tamika, Jane, Leslie & Jacqui have The Eagle Eyes for spotting the pregnancy test and the diapers. (Yes, they're disposable. Someday I'll tell you what the Amish have to do with it). Let the countdown begin...
This is the reason I've been such a lazy, slovenly excuse for a housewife, and - you'll excuse me, I'm sure - MIA from Food Waste Friday. Sleep and sitting are my new best friends. We're such good friends that we're going on vacation together. Or having a party. Or something. Christmas cards, for sure.
TWO:
Jr got out of his diaper last night. The cover was still wrapped around one leg, but the prefold was entirely off.
And he was still zipped up in this:
Baby Magic? I think so. Also: Constantly In Motion, is that boy.
THREE:
The Russians (or Ukrainians or Hungarians) have done something to my blog, and you'll never guess what the top referring site is for The Mrs right now.
I don't read Russian (or Ukrainian or Hungarian), but the pictures aren't in Cyrillic, if you know what I mean.
FOUR:
Mr was in the basement last night, cackling gleefully over his life changing beer. See?
"Eighteen different kinds", he says.
We have a $50/month budget for beer. It has been exceeded.
Mr? He's in luuuurve with his beer. Real, true love, too.
Like: "Oh, Founders Reds Rye IPA, you are so complex. Let's go out on a date and talk about hops."
Or: "Sierra Nevada Porter, you are so beautiful. I could stare into your dark eyes all night."
FIVE:
I officially blame my recent Unfunny, Lacklustre, and foggy blogging (that would be Foglogging, right?) on zee baybee.
Also the Russians.
